


until my words reach you

by allegrolines



Series: footsteps [1]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Falling In Love, Feelings, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6083724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegrolines/pseuds/allegrolines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howon just wanted to watch a movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Howon just wanted to watch a movie.

That’s exactly what he said after practice, when they finally got a break after going through the choreography over and over again for hours. Howon sat down on the hard floor with a hand towel draped over his shoulders, his legs sprawled everywhere and his head as light as a feather after the physical rush of dancing. At his left, Myungsoo was curled up on his side, not moving at all. Sungjong stood by the water fountain, refilling his bottle. Both Sunggyu and Sungyeol stared at nothing with twin blank expressions. Only Dongwoo seemed to have enough strength left to keep talking between huge gulps of his energy drink, but even he looked a little dimmer than usual.

Howon can recall the exact sound Woohyun’s sneakers made when he walked up to him, the precise angle of Woohyun’s spine when he bent forward to knead his own thighs with shaky fingers. Woohyun’s eyes caught his, and he smiled at Howon like it was the easiest thing in the world; Howon remembers feeling like he had too many things to say all of a sudden, and not enough words to articulate any of them. He and Woohyun had got along since the very beginning, but lately there was something in the way they kept gravitating towards each other that made Howon want to put pen on paper and spill his mind in ink and music. Despite the soreness of his limbs, Howon was restless; there was too much he didn’t know how to put into words yet, so he asked Woohyun to watch a movie with him instead. Woohyun’s eyes lit up when he said yes.

That was then.

Now is a whole different story—the movie they chose playing from Sungyeol’s laptop, a half eaten box of smuggled cookies, Howon’s feet on Woohyun’s lap. Howon lost of track of the plot twenty minutes ago, when Woohyun curled his left hand around his ankle. Or maybe, he thinks when yet another shiver runs down his spine, it was when Woohyun started playing with the anklet Howon’s been wearing recently. Woohyun has strong, nimble fingers, and Howon can feel them tug at the thin leather cord in a gentle, distracted kind of way, running along it so they brush over Howon’s joint ever so often. Howon tries his best not to shake too obviously, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. His breaths sound too loud to his own ears, but thankfully Woohyun doesn’t seem to realize what’s going on—unlike Howon, he’s still paying attention to the movie, unaware that Howon’s falling to pieces with just the softest of touches. 

Howon’s half hard before he can fully process what’s going on. He hugs the pillow closer to himself, feeling very, very grateful that he had the foresight of grabbing it before they settled in on the couch. There’s nothing sexual about Woohyun’s fingers on his ankle, just warmth and steady pressure, soft and comforting. Woohyun has touched him in the same easy, tender way one million times before—putting a hand on the small of Howon’s back when they move around each other in the kitchen, leaning against Howon’s side on the car, falling asleep with his head pillowed on Howon’s thigh. His presence is both familiar and expected at this point. Howon has always known he likes Woohyun; what he didn’t notice before was how every moment they shared had piled up until he was full to the brim with affection. And somehow this is when it all overflows, leaving Howon overwhelmed by a punch-in-the-gut feeling as unavoidable as the tide.

He truly, _actually_ just wanted to watch a movie with Woohyun.

As far as potentially life changing realizations go, Howon can’t help feeling his own seems kind of ill timed. There’s less than a month left before their debut, for one thing. The movie doesn’t fit the mood at all, and there’s nothing particularly sexy about his and Woohyun’s old, well worn pajamas. Howon’s hands smell like garlic and kimchi from their late dinner, and he’s so exhausted it shouldn’t even be possible for him to be still awake. It’s as far from a romantic setting as it could be, and yet—

Something blows up on screen, followed by a flurry of curses, and Woohyun leans forward, his lips slightly parted while his fingers tighten-loosen-tighten around Howon’s ankle. There are shadows under Woohyun’s eyes; Howon wants to reach out for him and smooth them out with his thumbs, cradle Woohyun’s face between his hands and kiss him until Woohyun goes soft and pliant under him. They’ve slept cuddled up together before, and it’s terrifyingly easy to imagine how Woohyun’s skin would taste, the way he’d sigh whenever Howon did something that made him feel good.

—Howon is so, so fucked.

He doesn’t say anything after the credits start rolling, nor after Woohyun lies down by his side later and presses one leg against his. It all feels too new and huge and fragile to be contained in a handful of syllables, though Howon thinks he could probably sketch what he’s feeling if he were in the dance room, alone in front of the mirror. When he turns over Woohyun is so close his hair tickles Howon’s nose. His last coherent thought before falling asleep is how if he tilted his face just so, he’d be able to brush a kiss on Woohyun’s forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woohyun knows it’s stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a B side of sorts (Woohyun POV).

Woohyun knows it’s stupid.

They are all supposed to act a certain way when they are in public— _hell_ , Myungsoo even got a stage persona especially tailored to fit his image, so it’s not as if Woohyun has room to complain. And yet, being aware of that didn’t stop the hurt squeezing around his throat when Howon walked up to Dongwoo before they left the stage and casually threw an arm over his shoulders, leaning in too close to whisper something in Dongwoo’s ear. It was probably nothing—a remark on their performance, maybe, or a comment on whether they’d be able to get takeout delivered once they went back to the practice room—but it made the fans scream themselves hoarse, and Woohyun’s lungs suddenly felt like they had shrunk a few sizes.

It’s so so stupid, actually.

He doesn’t have time for this—or rather, _they_ don’t—so he keeps his mouth shut and goes through their post stage routine just as he is expected to. Maybe he doesn’t joke around as much as he usually would, but they are all so tired Woohyun hopes no one will think too much of it. It’s not as if he’s going to say anything to Howon, and he can’t be upset with Dongwoo either; they haven’t done anything wrong, after all. In fact, the only person Woohyun can really blame for how he’s feeling—it’s not jealousy, just a dull sort of heartache—is himself. He’s the one who forgot who they are and where they stand, even if it only was for a brief moment.

They don’t get to go back to the dorm until much, much later; by then the moon is a sharp pale sliver in the sky, and a hint of gray’s already spreading up from the east. Woohyun takes advantage of everyone’s heavy steps, walking ahead of them and getting into the bathroom first, ignoring the raised voices complaining in chorus from the living room. At this point it’s just basic courtesy to leave the door unlocked; if Woohyun’s lucky he’ll have at least five minutes alone before someone barges in.

He’s just finished showering when the door creaks open—almost seven whole minutes, not bad at all—and Howon slips in quietly. Woohyun starts, reaching out for his bag to fish out a clean t-shirt. He gets tangled up in it in his haste to get dressed, the collar catching painfully on one of his earrings. Woohyun grimaces, but putting a layer of fabric between the two of them makes him feel a little less vulnerable, and he needs that reassurance too much right now to care about the sting.

“You’ve been so quiet since we finished our stage earlier,” Howon says.

Woohyun’s hands pause on the towel wrapped around his hips. Howon’s face is unsure, even if his voice sounds perfectly calm and even, and Woohyun doesn’t know what to say to make it better.

“Is it your knee again?” Howon insists. “You said it’d been bothering you lately. Are you okay?”

“I’m—” Woohyun hesitates. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

Howon looks away, frowning.

“I’m almost done, if you wanna shower,” Woohyun says softly. His chest feels too tight again but he doesn't dare to move closer to Howon. “I just—I still need to brush my teeth but—”

“You still look sad,” Howon says bluntly, almost helplessly. Woohyun isn’t even surprised—if he’s able to read Howon, then Howon can read him just as well. “Maybe I shouldn’t press but—Woohyunie?”

Woohyun sits down on the edge of the toilet lid. “I don’t know, it’s—” How can he even begin to explain what’s going on in a way that doesn’t involve confessing to Howon? He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be brave enough to do that. “I just have the feeling I haven’t been doing my job very well,” he finally says. It’s pretty inadequate as far as explanations go, but it’s the truth, or at least part of it.

The silence stretches and stretches afterwards, broken only by the sluggish _drip drip drip_ of the faucet. Woohyun forces himself to look up at Howon, just in time to see the worry creasing his face turn into confusion.

“But you were so good, when we performed,” Howon says, looking baffled. “And also yesterday? You’ve been really consistent since we began promoting the new song.”

It’s comforting, the way Howon praises him so easily; Howon, who is kind and caring and always tries his best in everything he does even when— _especially_ when—other people don’t give him the credit he deserves. Woohyun smiles at him. He wasn’t talking about his performance onstage, but he feels a little better nonetheless. “Thank you, Howon-ah,” he says.

“Idiot,” Howon says fondly, smiling back. He looks so relieved Woohyun wants to cry. “You know you can talk to me when you’re feeling that way. I’m a pretty good listener.”

“Yeah, I know,” Woohyun replies. His throat feels weird, scratchy. “Now go shower before the others lose their patience.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone has passed out already, Woohyunie. Only Sungyeol and Sungjongie were still awake when I came here.”

“That was fast.”

“Well, it’s not every day that we don’t have to worry about schedules,” Howon says. His smile widens, all boyish delight. “I still can’t believe we’re having a whole day off.”

Woohyun starts gathering his stuff to distract himself from doing something ill advised, like kissing Howon. “As if you won’t ask one of our managers to take you to the practice room so you can spend half of tomorrow dancing, you nerd,” he says, balling up his dirty clothes with the towel he had used during their last practice. A day off means time to sleep in and cook lunch from scratch. Woohyun wonders if the others will want to play around or if they’ll just try to rest as much as they can.

“Hey, who are _you_ calling a nerd?” Howon throws his dirty shirt at Woohyun’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts, and starts laughing in earnest when Woohyun sputters indignantly. He’s golden all over—golden skin and golden hair—and Woohyun _wants_.

“Besides,” Howon keeps saying, “I hoped you’d want to come with me.”

“To the practice room?”

“Just you, me, and freestyle dancing,” Howon nods, looking hopeful. “It’s been a while, don’t you think?”

“You just like having me around because it makes you feel better about yourself,” Woohyun protests, but there’s no heat at all beneath his words, and he’s well aware of it. Judging by the pleased curl of Howon’s mouth, he knows it too. “Also, I wanted to make stew tomorrow.”

“So do both,” Howon says, raising his voice over the rush of water from the shower. “I could help you with that? I mean—I could hand you stuff while you do the actual cooking.”

“I’d like that,” Woohyun admits.

“Then it’s settled.” Howon’s face peeks out from behind the curtain. “Pass me the towel?”

When they get out of the bathroom everybody else is fast asleep—both Sungjong and Sungyeol are in their room, but the rest are sprawled on the living room, Myungsoo lying at a ninety-degree angle from Dongwoo and Sunggyu with his head pillowed on Dongwoo’s stomach. They are all going to complain about their backs when they wake up, Woohyun thinks, shaking his head. He walks up to the closet and comes back carrying a few thin blankets for them. He’s spreading one over Myungsoo when Howon gets out of his own room, wearing his glasses and a pair of purple boxers.

“It stinks like stale sweat and feet in there,” he complains, which—that’s fair, Woohyun supposes, but then Howon is looking at him with big, soft eyes, and—

_This_ is why Woohyun is going to end up with a broken heart and no one else but himself to blame for it. 

“C’mon, my bed is big enough for both of us,” he says with a sigh, even though he knows it's the last thing he should offer. So much for self preservation.

They haven’t slept in the same room for months, but the familiarity of Howon’s smell kicks Woohyun’s heart into overdrive. They’ll have to share the pillow too, he realizes, curling up on his side and pulling the sheet up to his chin. Howon lies on his back, so close that Woohyun can feel the heat coming off his body, sweet and steady and overwhelming.

“This is so much better,” Howon murmurs, turning over and blinking sleepily at him. “Thanks, Woohyunie.”

“Anytime,” Woohyun replies, and he means it, one hundred per cent.

The thing is, Howon’s friendship will always be worth the potential heartbreak; Woohyun’s feelings might run deeper than that, but he wouldn’t change what they have for anything. He’s Howon’s friend and, no matter what, Woohyun knows he’ll stick at his side for as long as he can.

A handspan away, Howon exhales in his sleep, shifts a little so his bony knees brush against Woohyun’s thighs. His hair is all over his face, tousled and impossibly soft. In a few hours they’ll get up and have breakfast together, and Woohyun will let Howon take him to the practice room and show him new dance steps until their feet are too sore to keep going. And later they’ll hole up in the kitchen and cook kimchi stew just like how Woohyun’s mom makes it. Once their free day is over there will be other stages, other responsibilities, the weight of Infinite carried among seven pairs of hands—

Woohyun’s thoughts go hazy, his eyelids too heavy to stay open. He falls asleep between one breath and the next one, tucked in the crook of Howon’s neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Woohyun’s “When Love Comes”
> 
> Nothing to see here, nothing at all.


End file.
